


The Sickness Of Survival

by All_the_write_reasons



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Don’t read this, Gay John Laurens, Gay Thomas Jefferson, If you love John Laurens as much as me, John Laurens Deserves Better, M/M, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Near Death Experiences, Not Cheating, Polyamorous Alexander Hamilton, Polyamory, School Shootings, Speculated Cheating, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Thomas Jefferson Loves Alexander Hamilton, chapters to be added?, jamilams - Freeform, this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_write_reasons/pseuds/All_the_write_reasons
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING OH MY GOD DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU CAN BE TRIGGERED BY DEATH, BLOOD MENTIONS, GUNS, SCHOOL SHOOTINGS ETC.School Shootings and Gun Violence is a growing problem in America that needs to be dealt with. It’s scary and not okay. This is a disclaimer that everything done in this work of FICTION is completely wrong and the characters in it are just works of my imagination and are not tied to the real people.Credit to LMM for the Characters, but credit to me for their roles and development.Gifted to TheInevitableSense because I became inspired to write this after reading God Save Our Foolish Sons





	The Sickness Of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Just another TRIGGER WARNING please be careful reading this.
> 
> Gifted to TheInevitableSense because I became inspired to write this after reading God Save Our Foolish Sons

At first, Alexander didn’t understand what was happening. He had been sitting in his calculus class, completing a simple test that his teacher had just passed out. He had stayed up nearly the entire night before, which wasn’t unusual, studying despite knowing that he had no reason to. Math was something that came to him easily, ever since he had been a little kid he had been naturally talented when it came to numbers. He probably would have been entered into the gifted program at a much younger age than he actually was had he already been fluent in English. As it was, he wasn’t fluent. Spanish had been all his mother, among others, ever used around him, up until the very day she died. He knew two english words: ‘Please’ and ‘Help’. They proved to be useful after he was sent to live with his neglectful father in New York but, they weren’t useful enough. The brunette child had been admitted into an assistive speech program until he could finally speak fluently. It only took him two years. His teachers called him a genius because of his quick progress. Though he had worked hard, he still carried his accent sometimes, and though it was rare, he did also forget words occasionally.

When he first heard the lonesome resonating bang, he brushed it off. The chances of it being an angry teacher or student slamming a door were probable. However, when the intercom turned on, the Latino teen realized something serious was happening, though he still hadn’t connected the dots, but it seemed no one else had either. Not even the teacher. That should have been reassuring, and it might have been had he not deciphered the scraggily words echoing throughout the school.

**Attention students and staff: We are now entering a Lockdown. This is not a drill. Please stay calm and follow standard lockdown procedure until the threat has been neutralized. Thank you.**

There was half a second of complete silence, and then, chaos. Alex’s teacher ran for the door, locking it before pulling the window blinds closed and barking orders to the class. The brunette teen didn’t pay him any mind though. He was focused on only one thing: John. A million panicked questions flashed through his mind as he fumbled to grab his cell phone. Before he could type any text though, he was being herded into the furthest back corner of his class room, while a few of the braver students were helping his teacher move the desks into a makeshift barricade. Just in case.

Alexander could choke on his own heartbeat, as it felt like it was forcing its way up his throat and into his head. Too much was happening around him all at once. Many of the students surrounding him were texting back and forth with people, other students, trying to figure out something that was happening, and every few seconds it proved useful as someone would call out something they learned. Most of it was likely just rumors. So far, Alex had discovered that a student in one of the classes had asked to go to the restroom, but when he came back, he had a gun in his hand and a crazy look in his eyes. He had shot a student in the classroom before darting into the hall. Alex could hear more gunshots in the hushed silence of the class. Though the information was great, he needed names. More information. Who was the shooter? Who had been shot? More importantly, were they dead, or just injured? He was glad that he was safe in a classroom.

✺✘✺

John wasn’t quite as lucky. He had a study hall class that period, and as he had assumed that this day was like any other, he did what he usually did, and went to the library. Now, he couldn’t regret that decision any more than he did. The curly haired boy had checked out a new book, and then left the room in order to find a nice place in the hallway to read. If he lived past this day, he was never leaving his classroom again.

The freckled teen had been curled up by his locker with The Perks Of Being A Wallflower resting in his lap. He loved books like that, that had a sense of real life in them. Relating to characters was the best part of any book, at least in his opinion, because it made the story seem more real. He had been immersed into the book when the first shot had sounded. His head shot up. He recognized the sound, but it didn’t make any sense in his head. The only time he had ever heard that noise was when his dad had taken him to… the shooting range? 

Now, he wised he could have connected the dots a little faster. Because he was abandoned in the hallway, and every door he came to was locked. He tried knocking on a few, begging them to let him in, but he knew the protocol just as well as the teachers did. They were strictly forbidden from opening the door under any circumstances. He wished he had just stayed home today.

John’s mother was a teacher at a local elementary school, which was probably the reason he loved reading and learning so much. It was without a doubt the reason he had the lockdown procedure carved into his head. Had he been thinking more clearly, rather than rushing through the halls in a panic, he might have been able to lock himself into a bathroom and hidden until the police, or the intercom, said it was safe.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t thinking clearly, which is what threw him into the increasingly unfortunate situation of turning a corner and crashing straight into someone’s chest. 

“Oh shit!” Slipped from his lips before he had even half a thought of terror. He stumbled back a few steps, his hands shooting above his head in a panic-fueled motion. It was then that his eyes focused on who he had crashed into. All the tension seemed to rush out of his body in one relaxed moment. “Oh thank god~ Tommy.” He breathed, stepping forwards again.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have relaxed so much, but when he was looking one of his boyfriends in the eye instead of a bullet, who could blame him. He only wished the magical moment could last longer, because suddenly his left side was erupting into an intense pain, and he was collapsing backwards against a wall, letting out a sharp gasp. It didn’t take a genus to realize he had been shot, but even as his eyes welled with salty tears, he couldn’t spot the gunman.

He let out a sharp cry, looking up at Thomas Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson who he had trusted, and loved with all of his heart. Thomas Jefferson who he had been dating for nearly three years. Thomas Jefferson who was holding a smoking gun out in front of him.

✺✘✺

Thomas was having a bad day. Actually, Thomas was having a bad week. It had technically started the previous Thursday, 8 days before he ruined his life, and ended others. 

Charles Lee had started the fight with a few carefully placed words and a promise of proof that he was right. See, Lee promised that he had video proof that Alexander had cheated on him, which wouldn’t have been bad, assuming Alex had actually told Thomas. Their relationship was pretty open, as long as they kept up communication and always agreed. The video he was shown was much worse than the prospect of the Caribbean Teen breaking his trust. It was Alexander and John, making out in a locker room. Which was no big deal, at least until they started talking in breathy voices in between kisses.

_“Just… Don’t tell Thomas yet.” Alexander’s voice was thick as he pinned John on the wall, punctuating his words with jaw kisses and flirty smiles. “He’ll think I chose you over him.”_

_“Didn’t you?”_

_“.....Yeah, I guess so. But I don’t think he can take it. I’ve got to distance myself before I dump him.”_

_“And we’ll still be together?” John sounded hopeful. That was the worst. He didn’t even care that Alex was planning to dump Thomas, to abandon him after all they had been through together._

_“Yeah, but we have to hide it from Tommy.” Tommy. Suddenly the name tasted sour on the Virginians tongue._

The week had only gotten worse from there, partially due to his festering. On Friday, he received an F on a test he had spent hours studying for. Then the weekend brought nothing but missed calls and ‘I’m busy’ texts from Alexander. It was worse at school, because Thomas noticed every time that him and his shorter boyfriend could touch, kiss, cuddle, flirt, plus more….and didn’t. The cherry on top was John’s knowing smiles, in which he probably thought Thomas didn’t understand.

On Wednesday, Charles reminded him of the video, and tauntingly offered to give him a DVD copy of it. Thursday morning, he made the decision, and stole his fathers gun from his locked drawer. He probably wouldn’t even notice it was gone until it was too late. That evening, Alexander texted him, asking if they could talk during lunch. Thomas knew what was going to happen, but he was determined to prevent the heart breaking words from coming out of the Latinos mouth. If Alex wasn’t going to be with him, he wouldn’t be with anyone. His boyfriends wouldn’t live to see lunch that day. He’d make sure of it.

It was second period on Friday morning when Charles Lee finally pushed him over the edge.

“So, has he done it yet?” The teen snickered, studying Thomas’ face for a hint of emotion. He was only perplexed when Thomas asked to go to the bathroom.

Charles didn’t have time to react before he was shot in the side by Thomas Jefferson’s flying bullet. He died three minutes later, in his teachers arms.

✺✘✺

It took Alex all of five minutes into the trangic panic to finally have a chance to text John. Thomas didn’t even cross his mind, which he would most definitely feel guilty about later. Maybe he could have done some sort of damage control.

**To: Freckle Lips | 8:23 am  
Please Tell Me You’re Safe**

**To: Freckle Lips | 8:24 am  
John, This is Serious. Were You In The Library? **

**To: Freckle Lips | 8:24 am  
Please Answer Me**

**To: Freckle Lips | 8:24 am  
Are You Alive? **

Sure, he could admit that he was panicking a little bit, but in a situation such as this one, panic was perfectly fine. He’d probably be considered a sociopath if he didn’t panic at least a little bit. The small male just couldn’t help the thousands of negative thoughts forcing their way into his previously math filled head.

Hamilton knew that John usually was at the library during this period, and hopefully he was still there now, huddled into a small room and surrounded by teachers or librarians, anyone that could protect him from harm. Thinking those things was the only source of comfort that he had.

✺✘✺

John let out a soft, pained sound, his eyes widening in understanding, and then fear. He didn’t completely understand why Thomas would do something like this… didn’t he love him? Why would he want to hurt him? John couldn’t begin to fathom how this man in front of him, causing him all this pain, was the man he had loved so completely and fully. The man he still loved.

“Thomas-“ He gurgled, suddenly noticing the blood gathering in his mouth. A part of his mind that wasn’t consumed by fear and confusion vaguely registered that it tasted like iron. The freckled boy spit onto the floor next to him, his left hand suddenly covering his bullet wound in a weak attempt of applying pressure to the injury. In reality, his hand just became sticky and slippery with the warm red liquid, being more of a hindrance than a help. “I don’t… how.. why?” He sputtered.

“You knew. You knew and you were just going to let him leave.” The words were strangely cold and distant, but they got the message across. John immediately knew what he was talking about. The curly haired boy wheezed quietly, his side burning. He registered his pocket vibrating, a specific pattern that signified one of his lovers messaging. Considering how he was watching Thomas stand in front of him, the texts could only be coming from one person.

He dug his fingers into his pocket, pulling out the device. John had always wanted to be a doctor when he became older. Helping others was a passion of his. It was unfortunate that he wouldn’t ever be able to become older. He knew that spitting blood was bad news, as it signified internal bleeding. The ambulance would never get here on time.

“It was his choice…” he mumbled quietly, more of the metallic red liquid dribbled down his chin. His clothes were already ruined by the fluid. “I asked him to stay…” his voice was low as his vision started to become blurry, darkening at the edges. Somehow, in his haze, he managed to type out a text.

**To: My Brave Lion | 8:40 am  
I’m Okay **

He shot one more look up at Thomas. 

“I’m Sorry.” He breathed out the apology, and as quickly as he had been injured, his eyes lost focus and he stilled, his cellphone clattering to the ground next to him with the words ‘I Love You’ still typed out.

✺✘✺

Thomas watched coldly, his eyes not leaving John’s face for even a second as he saw the life drain out of the one he loved. It didn’t hurt. Thomas had expected it to hurt. The Virginian let himself frown for only one moment, a brief break in his cold, collected, and cruel mask. He stashed the gun into the holster on his jeans and kneeled over the still bleeding body of his unfortunate victim.

Slender fingers slid over John’s eyelids, closing them. Thomas briefly noted how the freckled southerners body was still warm before he pressed his lips to that of the corpse. A final goodbye, or as it could be considered, deaths kiss.

Jefferson stood back up as soon as the moment was over, red smeared against his lips and beginning to stain his t-shirt. He wished he could find it in himself to care about the mess, or the loss, but now, there was only one thing left on his mind: find and kill Alexander before the police get to him. He could hear the sirens in the distance, probably the ambulance, and he was smart enough to know that the schools armed security guards were probably searching the school building as he stood there, but he was at peace with them finding him, as soon as he finished the Cuban teen.

He stepped over John’s body and walked towards the math department. He had been dating Alex long enough to know where to look for him. Within a minute he was standing outside of the calculus room, glaring at the door with an anger that he had subdued for much too long. He had let the emotion fester and grow for over a week, and now he was letting the feeling consume all parts of him, basically seeping out of his pores.

He tried the door, even though he knew it would be locked, and heard the anxious rustling if the students moving around. With three carefully placed shots to the door handle, it was swinging open, the knob barely hanging onto the fractured wood. The southerner heard small cries, maybe some were praying, he didn’t care much, he had pretty tunnel vision. 

“Where is Alexander.” He spoke angrily, his voice bouncing off of the walls. The students started to move out of the way, but Thomas heard a sound of movement from the side. He turned and fired at the lunging person before he even knew what was happening. The teacher dropped dead to the floor, his head bleeding profusely into the carpet and splattering behind him. There was a moment of complete silence as he turned back towards the students. They had managed to clear a path and large circle around Alexander, who was frozen, pale and stiff.

“Oh my god-“ his voice was weak and quiet as he stared at the taller male. Fear decorated his features, sending him into a flurry of panic. He was going to die. That much, was clear. Why else would Jefferson have come barging into the room, gun ablaze, calling out his name. “Is this…”

“How could you?” Thomas spit, taking a step towards him. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve given you-“ his voice broke, only a small indication that he was sad too. “You were just going to leave!?”

“I d-didn’t love you… anymore.” Well, there it was. The words were out, and nothing would make them disappear. Alex wished he had been smart enough to lie, to pretend it was a joke, anything that could have calmed Thomas down.

The brunette heard the shot before he felt the spike of pain. It was even louder than he anticipated, drowning out the sounds of the sirens that must have been right outside the school. Then, as soon as he realized what had happened, his leg screamed at him.

Thomas had aimed for his right leg. He didn’t know why he gave Alex mercy that he hadn’t spared for John. Maybe that was the secret, the two southerners were only hanging on because of Alexander. Both too deeply in love with the Spanish male to realize just how helpless they were. He fired two more shots, on impulse, his anger only growing as he watched the pain his now ex was in. 

He could get drunk off of the power a gun gave to him. He honestly could. One of the bullets hit Alexander’s shoulder, the other one, his stomach. Alex didn’t cough up blood like John had, he just cried fat tears, and whimpered in pain. The other students were crying too, that or talking on the phone, probably to their parents, though few were watching with wide eyes. It was a gruesome scene. There was blood everywhere, and the screams of agony that Alex was pushing through his lips were loud enough to chill anyone to the bone.

Thomas heard the police before he saw them. They must have been rushing up the stairs and down the hallway. He knew he only had one bullet left, he had been careful to count them, and he couldn’t waste another on Alexander. He moved before he knew he had decided, pulling the short male to his feet and crashing their lips together. He could taste tears on his partners lips, but Alexander didn’t pull back. He stood stalk still, and crumpled to the ground when the Virginian released him.

Thomas didn’t have time to wait for Hamilton to die. He stepped forwards, into the center of the room before pushing the cold metal of the gun barrel against his own chin. There was no getting out of this. Suicide was the only way to avoid jail. He offered one last glance at the students before pulling the trigger, sending a spray of blood and skeletal fragments splattering across the room. His body slumped to the floor, and stayed that way until the police rushed in.

✺✘✺

The events that took place after Thomas died were a blur in his head, as he had passed out only moments after watching the horrific scene play out. Whether he blacked out because of pain, or the gruesome image was up for debate. He woke up days later in a hospital bed, doped up on painkillers that he knew he wouldn’t remember the name of. There was no one else in the room with him.

That was the very first thing Alex realized, as he glanced around the room in a daze. He was completely alone. He didn’t know why, but that fact caused him to spiral into a panic, and in mere moments nurses were rushing into his room, called in by the incessant chirping of his heart monitor.

“He’s having a panic attack, someone get the IV!” One nurse called, though Alex could swear he was listening through a tank of water. He felt so far away, like he was watching himself panic from the outside. The room looked three times as big, and even kinkier than he had originally thought.

“Is that really the best idea? He just came out of the coma.” Hesitating, the original nurse nodded in acknowledgement.

“He could re-enter. An oxygen mask will have to do.” And like that, a large yellow mask was being pulled over his face. In about 3 minutes, Alexander had calmed down slightly, enough that his monitors had stopped freaking out. He ripped the mask off of his face defiantly, glancing at the three nurses. He hated hospitals.

“John?” He croaked the word out. He didn’t bother asking about Thomas, he had seen him die with his own eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that Thomas was gone. But, the teen had expected John at his side when he woke up. The fact that he was nowhere to be seen was worrying. “My boyfriend. Do you know where he is?”

The room was nearly completely silent, the ashy greys and fluorescent lights only dulling the mood more than it was already. The silence set a pit of anxiety roaring in his stomach.

“John Laurens?” A nurse that hadn’t yet spoken piped up, and he was flooded with relief. If she had heard of him, he was probably just in the waiting room. He could imagine it clear as day. John was feisty, and didn’t always take no for an answer, so if he was in the waiting room, he had likely thrown a fit and demanded to see him. Alex wanted so badly to see him.

“Yes!” He breathed, the relief on his face not being reflected on the doctors. “Is he here? I want to see him.” Within ten seconds of saying the words, his heart dropped. Nobody was moving, or speaking. And two of the nurses refused to meet his eye. “...what?”

“John Laurens… was one of the victims of the shooting. He was pronounced dead upon arrival to the scene.” Just like that, Alexander’s world stopped spinning. He felt his heart stop, and the small sound from the monitor confirmed it. His throat closed up as he struggled to remind himself to breath.

“...no.” His eyes welled with fat tears, but they didn’t feel like enough. No action of his could possibly show the absolute anguish he felt at the news. He wanted to scream, and cry. He needed to punch things and hit his head on a wall. He wanted to go back in time and save his lover, or go forwards in time and kill himself. Yet, at the same time he felt completely empty, like the husk of a broken human.

John couldn’t be dead. He hadn’t even done anything… it was Alex who was going to dump Thomas. It was Alex who had messaged him, and planned what he would say. It was Alex who pushed Thomas over the edge. He couldn’t begin to show how much he regretted what he had done. 

_It was all his fault._

That much he was sure of.

**Author's Note:**

> I might turn this into a multi chapter fic if yall decide you like it! thx
> 
>  
> 
> Gifted to TheInevitableSense because I became inspired to write this after reading God Save Our Foolish Sons


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